


Eighty-Nine

by axumun



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Headcanon, Letters, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axumun/pseuds/axumun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He said he'd be a week.</p><p>[or, how Aerith copes with four years of Zack's unexplained absence through writing letters, shaping philosophies, and becoming a protector]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eighty-Nine

**Author's Note:**

> NOTING THAT I DONE GOOFED AND I MIXED UP ELENA AND ELMYRA. I HAVE RIGHTED THIS AND SWITCHED THE NAMES. I APOLOGIZE TO THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY READ WHO MAY THINK I AM AN IDIOT.

He said he'd be a week.

Seven days wasn't long at all, though it was rare for Zack to go more than two without visiting the church, at least just to say hello. Whenever he finished a mission early and wasn't concerned about the Turks, he'd stay for hours. Often he offered to help Aerith with her flowers despite her insistence that they wouldn't listen to him, though to keep him occupied, she'd confer with Zack about which flowers would look the best for displaying in the wagon.

A week.

Aerith called him on the second day, but it didn't go through. She called again that evening. Nothing. Zack had mentioned that he was going somewhere remote, a mountain village on the opposite hemisphere. Maybe she could write a letter?

She could just imagine the surprise on his face when he received it (because she knew his face better than anyone, including all of his smiles, like the ones that bloomed easy and open across his face when he was genuinely overjoyed, or the puppy-dog ones that gently asked for small favors). She was sold at the image, scrambling home before her curfew in her excitement to see her hopeless devotion on a page.

_Hi, Zack!_  
 _I hope your mission's going well! The reception up there must not be good. Or maybe you're really busy. Just know that I'm thinking of you. Come home soon!_  
 _\- Aerith_

Home.

She remembered when Zack once mumbled to her, half asleep with his head on her shoulder, weary from a long mission and resolving to face the consequences of arriving at base late, that she felt more like home than any place he'd ever been. She knew, vaguely, that Zack had left a family and a comfortable life behind to fight for Shinra. Aerith wasn't familiar with the luxury, but the idea that she was more valuable to him than that sentiment had brought tears to her eyes despite herself.

Aerith hesitated, thinking maybe it was too forward. A fluttering in her chest convinced her that it was right, so she folded the paper without glancing at her words again, slipping it into an envelope.

She did not tell her mother.

*

The next morning, Tseng waited for her at the church. She handed him the letter with a shyness reserved for difficult questions. "Could you make sure Zack gets this?"

His lips quirked up in an expression that could hardly be classified as a grin. "I'll do my best." Aerith's responding excitement made the sun seem brighter, a contagion that made her flowers reach further for the light.

Tseng's seemingly-condescending gaze would render most people immobile, but Aerith knew that it was simply his business expression, and had long learned to ignore his eyes burning into her back while she tended the garden.

It was an afterthought, but that didn't make it lose its meaning or its intention; Aerith briefly asked for the letter again, carefully unsealing it and gently placing one of her brightest, healthiest blooms inside. Tseng's statuesque mouth twitched upward when the bulging envelope was placed back in his hands.

*

Four days later, on the night Zack had promised to return, Aerith sat in the stale artificial light of the slum church after the sun had set, with only her flowerbed in between her and the door. Her brain kept recreating the sound of it opening, of Zack's commandeering silhouette and summer-dawn eyes. The silence of her reality was too much to process and she lost herself in what was sure to come, sometimes fooling herself so well that she believed Zack was already there.

She felt the brush of leather on her cheek, his unmistakable scent of sweat and grime mixing with a flowery cologne that he bought to impress her. It had never put her off. It grew to mean home for Aerith, even more so than her own bed and Elmyra's home cooking.

Aerith lay back against time-worn floorboards, losing herself in her reverie, because yes, it had only been seven days but it had felt like seven years, somehow. Zack had a way of bending time.

She fell asleep like that, only realizing in the morning once she was stirred awake by fleeting drops of morning sun and a stomachache that told her Elmyra was worried sick, that Zack hadn't shown up.

*

Aerith knew that her powers would never be as strong as her mother's, but she had a heightened sensitivity that Elmyra swore was unique, and from there, she learned to distinguish what the Planet had to say to her, how to translate its motherly babble into information. She learned to forecast weather, for example, though this wasn't particularly useful to her since weather in the slums was a myth.

She noticed that certain people close to her were more in-step with the Planet than others, even if they didn't know it. There was an old man that came from Sector 8 to hand food out to the least fortunate in the area. Aerith could feel whenever he was near, even if she often didn't see him. She could feel it when his wife passed away. She didn't charge him for the bouquet of flowers he subsequently bought, and in turn he'd called her an angel.

Zack was also one of these people. After over two years of his coming and going, Aerith liked to think that she could feel him near, too; pinpoint his distance, trace his footsteps.

What she knew for sure, based on this ability, was that Zack was not anywhere near her. For the next few days she clung to the hope that he'd checked into base and was too swamped with missions to say hello, but not once had Aerith felt the prickle of heat in her hands and her chest that told her Zack was in Midgar.

On the fourteenth day, she decided it couldn't hurt to write another letter.

_Dear Zack,_  
 _Mission taking longer than you thought? Must be important. I wish you could call._  
 _Sorry. You know how I worry._  
 _Be safe,_  
 _Aerith_

The next morning, when Tseng stopped by to observe her, he took the letter without a word. Aerith didn't ask about the stiffness in his bones, the tightness in his face.

On the longest nights, Aerith replayed their greatest days in her head, and the coldness of his absence was a sensation that would not leave her no matter how close she lay to the fireplace, how many blankets she wrapped herself up in. Their warmth was empty. Zack would be her only comfort.

Almost two weeks later, her shaky hands scrawled out:

_Zack,_  
 _I miss you. Are you okay? Mom doesn't like me to be so upset but I can't help it._  
 _Always here,_  
 _Aerith_

Tseng had to look away when she gave this one to him.

She was finding it harder to smile. She couldn't even fake it. Everytime she smiled she saw his mouth and it made her want to break. She hoped she could get over it soon; it was bad for business.

Day forty:

_Zack,_  
 _Did you get lost? Did you find your friend? Tseng won't tell me about your mission. He won't tell me anything. I hate being in the dark. Please come home. I mean...if you want to._  
 _Praying for you,_  
 _Aerith_

She lost Tseng as a confidante. This was devastating at first, because Tseng had always listened to her deepest worries since she was very small. Though, she realized, there was a difference between the concerned ramblings of a child and the confidential whereabouts of a lost SOLDIER.

Lost. She could feel it, maybe not in the sense that he was wandering without a map, but more like he was stuck in his mind, immobilized. She knew that he was alive but he was clinging. A sliver of his humanity had become a part of her and it was flickering, faltering.

She began to tell these things to Elmyra, as it brought her comfort to get it all off her chest. This pacified Aerith for a while, since Elmyra was supportive as always. She still felt cold.

Aerith began to think a lot about faith. Faith in the Planet, in herself, in Zack. One night she tentatively asked the Planet if Zack would be alright. It heard her call and did not reply.

She thought about the world outside her small scope, the vast hills and oceans and mountains and plains that Zack swore he would show her one day. She thought about the people there, how much more they'd seen than her; about Zack's charm. About what she'd written about coming home, if he wanted to.

It had been exactly three months since he promised to be home. The coldness inside of her burned feverishly, and she knew she could not hold on to this forever, she needed closure where there would be none. She needed a reason to turn back. Her next letter had no greeting.

_You must have moved on. It wouldn't have been hard for you to find another girl. I'm sorry._  
 _No. I'm not sorry. Because you promised. Where did you go? Please, Zack, I can't live like this just tell me just talk to me one last time and then you can go wherever you want I need to hear you breathe._  
 _I'm selfish. I'm sorry..._

Her eyes were downcast upon handing it to Tseng. She did not expect a reaction, but she got one: "He's lucky."

Aerith's lungs swelled and she met his eyes for the first time in weeks. "He's okay?"

Tseng sighed a sigh with a double meaning, one that begged her not to take the action itself as a signal of weakness. "He's lucky to have someone so faithful."

Aerith instantly regretted the wavering of her trust, even if it had only been for a moment. She knew Zack better than anyone, better than his comrades, than his superiors. She knew his limits, his values. She decided he would not turn on her.

But boy, it would be nice to have proof.

*

Day 108:  
 _I'll write to you every day._

Day 109:  
 _I really do hope wherever you are, you're happy._

Day 110:  
 _Can you still visit sometimes?_

Day 111:  
 _Mom says not to lose hope._

Day 112:  
 _I know you're alive._

Day 113:  
 _Are you getting these? If you are, can you send something back? Did Tseng withhold the return address?_

Day 114:  
 _Actually, don't reply. Tseng doesn't talk about you. Are you in trouble? Is someone after you?_

Day 115:  
 _Can I meet you somewhere? It'll be scary but if you need help I'll find you._

Day 116:  
 _Never mind. I told you not to reply. They can find you that way, whoever they are._

*

Day 365:  
 _It's been a year, Zack. Please be okay. I'm always praying for you._

Day 423:  
 _Should I keep writing? Do you even care?_

Day 531:  
 _I miss you, I always will._

Day 598:  
 _Sometimes I hear your footsteps on the church stairs._

Day 629:  
 _I'll start writing every day again. Maybe I'll talk about Elmyra. I didn't do that enough when you were here. She really wants to meet you. It's not like you to disappoint an old woman, Zack, my Zack, my love._

Day 699:  
 _I never told you that, did I? That I love  
I'll save it for when I see you. Because I will. I will see you. I will, I will, I will, I will. You're probably on your way. I'm getting warmer._

*

When the third year arrived, Aerith noticed the money she'd accumulated from flower sales. It seemed like a lot, even though she gave a lot of it to Elmyra and spread most of the rest to the hungry. She didn't know what to do with it, until one day while she window-shopped she realized that she had the option to buy something, and she couldn't deny how nice that felt.

There was a heaviness in the air that suggested humidity above the plate. It must've been a nice day. She held her breath as she ascended to Sector 8. This was a sky that most people detested but it was the only one she could tolerate, because the smog blocked any reminders of his eyes, and it separated her from the force that pulled her upwards.

She found that the shops there were quite wealthy. She found mostly weapon shops, which didn't appeal to her, though she liked looking at armor. It reminded her of her simple worn dress. Maybe she needed a change.

As if destiny were smiling upon her, the next display showed off the nicest dress she'd ever seen: rose-colored, snug and soft, topped by a scarlet mini-jacket with strategic metal accents. It was also the most expensive, though it was pocket change for the average denizen of this part of the city.

He could still arrive any day. Maybe tonight. He'd asked for her to wear this. It was a sign. It would be tonight.

*

Time eluded her now. She had lost track of the days, but she never lost track of letters. She kept perfect count of them in her head, even when nothing else made sense to her. She was smiling again.

One oddly quiet day, while she was selling flowers in the park, she heard a scream that was not human. Spending time with Zack had hardened her a bit to the presence of monsters, but it was still scary to have them so close to home. She remained alert, though after taking a thorough inventory she realized that there was nothing around to use as a weapon.

A horde of them approached very suddenly, chasing two young siblings who'd been on the swings minutes ago. The monsters were short and greasy and grotesque, with rows of sharpened teeth and tongues the color of poisonous plants. Aerith jumped in between them and the children without a second thought, just as Zack would do for her or for anybody, and sternly advised them to run home. In a blink, they were gone.

Her fear only reared its head when one monster lunged for her and caught her by the ankle, biting into her skin and sending her tumbling to the ground. She kicked it with her other foot, rolling and struggling until she got behind her wagon again, realizing it was the only thing at her disposal that gave her a chance.

She ran them down one by one, opening her eyes only to set her path and then closing them again to unsee the blood she was spilling. This kept them at bay but it would never kill them; their skin was too thick and her offensive was too weak.

Like a miracle, a passerby called out to her and threw her a novice Fire Materia, which she caught with a trembling hand. This is where she would swear Zack had saved her life - years ago, he once showed her how to use Materia ("You don't know? I'd think you'd be a master at it, being one with the Planet and all. It'll make me feel better, knowing you can defend yourself.") and she'd never forgotten.

She held her breath against the pungent odor of the charred gore. Several people - adults and children alike - ran to her and embraced her, oblivious to her wound and her fear and how much she just wanted to be alone.

She was halted by the look in one child's eyes, like she was a hero. She'd seen kids look at Zack like that. It compensated for how disgusting she felt.

*

"Damn, Mother Shiva, what the Hell is the point of having SOLDIER patrol every street corner if they don't keep out the monsters, if they just let them come in and go nuts? You could've been killed! I could've lost my baby! Aerith, Aerith, darling, promise me. Promise me you won't do that again. It's too dangerous to go into the open now, let alone fight. I couldn't live with myself if..."

Aerith shook her head. "Mom. This is my responsibility. If I hadn't been there, they would've hurt some kids in the park. I'm going to buy a weapon tomorrow, so if this happens again, I'll be ready, and it won't be a big deal, and nobody will be hurt."

Elmyra burst into tears. "This is about Zack, isn't it?"

"What?"

"This would be his job. You think you have to carry his slack because he's Minerva-knows-where, but you don't, sweetheart. Someone probably reported it and there'll be troops - "

"Maybe that's the problem," Aerith countered. "I've seen how the troops treat the townspeople. My friends. Like they're nothing. They need someone they trust protecting them. They trust me. And maybe you're right. Maybe this wouldn't be my fight if Zack were here. But he's not. And it is."

Elmyra sighed. "You're a hot-headed one, love. Just don't get hurt. Don't. I'm ordering you."

Aerith nodded. "I know a thing or two about self-defense."

*

Aerith was distraught to find that none of the Sector 8 shop's swords felt natural. She'd payed a little extra for consultation about the best weapon for her, and she practiced basic techniques with every blade in their arsenal. None of them felt right.

Her consultant, a woman who'd come from behind the counter to assist her, took note of Aerith's laboured breathing, of the determination and restlessness in her eyes.

"You're fighting for someone," she noticed aloud.

"I'm fighting for everyone," Aerith corrected.

"That's a surefire way to get yourself killed." She took one of Aerith's hands in hers without asking. "You're a Healer. You use magic?"

"I'm practicing," Aerith answered.

"Then your weapon should augment Materia, not strength. Besides, no offense, but your muscles aren't really fit for swords. I couldn't sell you one of those with a clear conscience. Try this."

She disappeared into the storage room for a few moments before reappearing with a silver rod. It felt lighter and more swift in Aerith's hands, and she got these techniques down in no time.

"This is it," Aerith beamed.

"Take it," the woman whispered. "It was mine. I can't put a price on it. Just take it. Good luck with your fight."

*

She practiced with the rod every night, though the monsters never returned. Once, Tseng came by during this time, and the set of his jaw and minute widening of his eyes told her that he didn't approve. She was dreaming too big, becoming too dangerous.

After that, a Turk was always keeping watch over her. They even followed her home on several occasions, and were met with rather colorful threats from Elmyra.

"Give it a rest," Elmyra pleaded. "I know you mean well. I know you want to help. But there's an order, honey. You're the one being protected. You're so precious, Aerith, you're so special. You have incredible gifts. Don't waste them on the kinds of things SOLDIER do."

Aerith shook her head, kept her gaze down. "Mother, I have to."

*  
  
Eventually, Tseng refused to take Aerith's letters. This effectively broke her trust; he knew what they meant to her. He ignored her questioning. "No comment. It's confidential. Aerith, do not push this matter."  
  
A week passed, and Tseng did not give in. She counted in her head. Eighty-eight. Eighty-eight confessions, declarations. Eighty-eight of her prayers on paper. Little did she know they were eighty-eight prayers sealed in a box on Tseng's desk.  
  
She tried to accept it. Tseng was her last tie to Zack - or so she believed. But she started to think that she didn't have it in her to write any more letters. She was so drained after years of wondering and wishing and denying. She'd been dragging her letter count around like a bounty and she wanted to be free of it more than anything.  
  
*

When a single white feather fell from the rafters, Aerith had almost forgotten about the creature that had protected her, the one Zack seemed to know awfully well.

"Hello, little one!" she greeted, though it hadn't shown itself to her.

It took long minutes to coax it down. It was true that the sight of it would keep Zack here, somehow, though she felt for the poor thing anyway. It gave a weak cry, like screeching metal, and finally descended, hanging its head and looking exceptionally weak. Degradation, she remembered.

She approached it slowly, petting its neck with caution as if it were a strange dog. "Have you been up there all this time?"

The creature gave no answer, opting only to lay down. Aerith sat beside it and hummed the same song she always sang to her flowers, and it seemed to calm it down. She felt its pain recede.

"Hey, have you seen Zack by any chance?" His name was beginning to feel foreign on her tongue.

Its head perked up and cocked. Aerith took it as an affirmative. "How is he?" she asked, but received no answer, of course.

Aerith glanced at the bench at the far end. "If I give you a message, can you get it to him?"

At this, the creature stood proudly. This made her laugh. She stood and walked to the bench, picking up her final letter. Number eighty-nine, the one that would give her closure.

She knew she would never see the creature again. She tried to heal it, but noticed that her powers were ineffective. It was dying of sadness; more deadly than any disease.

*

She was thinking of Zack less and less. She was getting warmer. She began to wonder how she would react if she were to see him now. It was hard to gauge how difficult it would be to close the distance between them that the years had forged. The thought made her sick. What if what she still prayed for every night was impossible?

Aerith began to pray not for Zack's return, but only for his safety. His visit would surely come in turn, but she believed his health was more important than her fantasy.

The warmth grew every day. She knew he was approaching. She braced herself.

One day, the warmth flared. He wasn't in the city but he was incredibly close. She knew, oh, she knew, and how her heart accelerated, how her feet lightened. The sunlight flared as if in response to her happiness. She tended to her flowers then, because she knew they were more pliant when she was happy and careful and they knew she loved them as much as anything.

Her brain repeated the process of playing the sound of his approach on repeat. He was close, so close, he would walk through the door any second, she knew it, it would be now. No. _Now._ Maybe now.

This went on for hours. Until the rain began.

Rain was a rare phenomenon in Midgar, which was obvious from the wasteland that stretched for miles in every direction. She knew it was always a sign of something greater.

It was never something good.

She prayed quickly for Zack's safety, her same mantra as always, then asked the Planet a little less tentatively than usual about Zack's state. She wasn't expecting a reaction, but she got one.

The response she received was a flash of a cliff, snapshots of a bloodied fallen SOLDIER, of a familiar rain-drenched sword in limp fingers and a chest ridden with bullet wounds that stuttered with the intake of air. She saw a glimpse of his thoughts, and gasped sharply, because she saw only herself, only darkness and herself, and she prayed again, though her prayer was more of a command, a command that was not heeded.

He was going to die.

There was no escaping it.

Long minutes passed in awful, prickling, screaming silence. She awaited his final breaths, because she had briefly felt his pain and knew how unbearable it was, only wanted it to be over so he could be with the Lifestream as it was his most comfortable option, but he seemed to hold out for hours in searing agony. He was fighting like Hell. It rained harder.

The warmth stuttered, but it felt stronger than ever. She couldn't see him anymore. She felt the moment when he let go. One last time, she prayed for his warm welcome, and the Planet obliged her, smiled at her, though she didn't return it, doubting she'd ever smile again.

She did not ever speak of him again. She did not think of him. When Elmyra or Tseng even hinted at the subject she shied away because she knew what they would never know.

Zack became a memory that she locked away, a prayer she prayed that she did not acknowledge. She remembered him in legacy but not as if she had known him. She sent almost thoughtless condolences to his country-boy hometown whose name had slipped her mind. She would forget them, because the two of them together were too painful as a unit, but she would not forget him.

She never stopped fighting. For everyone.


End file.
